крылья
by Altered910
Summary: He wanted to escape. He wanted flight. He wanted it. He wanted her. He wanted her. He wanted her. Oh how he wanted her. Oh how he wanted it all. Intentionally short chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Warnings: This will be a gory story, with possible character death. At least, with the horror warning, that should have been obvious.

* * *

><p>The sky over head was a strong blue, and would have been perfect in one of those postcards of some white-sanded island in the Caribbean. But this blue sky loomed over a land of snow and evergreens, all frozen in the dead of winter. The snow shone brightly, the glare making the few who dared to venture out of their cozy, warm homes wince from the brightness. It was still picture perfect, but there was nothing special to capture the eyes of anyone who wasn't used to it. Or wasn't obsessed with snow and winter landscapes.<p>

Maybe it was because most were either hibernating or had fled the land for warmer climates, but the forest was especially silent. On the surface, it was a regular silence one was bound to find in any sort of forest, sans the ones in the tropics.

Those who were awake and out, however, would beg to differ.

Treading lightly on the glaring snow was a beast. The beast, though it prowled on, felt, in an almost self-conscious manner, that that snow was glaring at it.

The beast sneered at it.

Its eyes narrowed, and its chops tugged at the corner with an almost crazed glee as it spotted its target.

There she waited, innocent and- more importantly- ignorant, of its approach.

It lunged, grabbed her, grabbed _her_, then took off, almost imperceptibly, back into the wood.

From far away, her cries of wound and woe could be heard, heard for hours on end, before they stopped abruptly, completely.

And then the forest was silent once again.

* * *

><p>How was it?<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Warnings: This will be a gory story, and possible character death. Read it very carefully.

* * *

><p><em>Twitch.<em>

_Twitch… Twitch._

He twitched.

Again.

Latvia dared a glance at the winter beast that sat across from his brother. He wouldn't normally wish his brother anymore grief than he normally had to deal with at the hands of the Russian, but did he honestly have to stare at Latvia when Lithuania was right across from him? Everyone knew Lithuania was his favorite, anyways.

The young Baltic sighed. Internally, of course. Though it always proved futile, he thought it might deter the crazed man from staring at him. He always gave in; the man was simply the most intimidating thing he'd ever had the karma to meet. Even Germany, in his power-obsessed craze of the twentieth century, hadn't frightened him as much as his former owner.

And he'd seen what Germany had done to Poland.

Maybe he'd been a bad nation in his past life, and was being torn into now because of it. He then wondered what he could've done that was bad enough to land himself in this situation.

His eyes began brimming, and he could swear he _heard_ Russia staring at him. Seriously, there was this little buzzing "ji…" that sounded suspiciously like Russia.

The winter nation, satisfied that he'd terrified the littlest Baltic enough, turned to Estonia. Instantly, he noted with glee, the nation froze up and glanced surreptitiously at the man. Russia tried to hold the gaze, but the glasses were quickly glaring back at him and the eyes of the second Baltic nation were hidden.

The tension in the room seemed to escalate. Every nation, even the micro-nations and provinces, had thrown their gaze at one point or another to the nation that seemed intent upon making them all uncomfortable.

_CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!_

The nations jumped, for once the world was in perfect sync, sans Russia, as the little bird that always rode somewhere on Prussia's body took flight and flew in tiny circles around the ex-nation's head.

His owner reached his hands up to try and catch the little creature, who'd probably been spooked by Russia. The bird pecked at the gloved hand that reached towards him and, in his delusion, flew towards the open door. Prussia, in desperation, abandoned the meeting hall, regardless that Norway was giving some fascinating-though nearly entrancing, with his monotone- story of some serial killer.

They could hear his voice fade as he ran after his mad bird. "Wha'do'ya mean, danger? Of course it's dangerous, Russia's in there! Gilbird come…"

Russia giggled at the antics of his former charge as Norway continued on without missing a beat.

_Don't you want to come play with Mother Russia, malenkaya?_ He thought after it. It wasn't a matter of if the little guy would come to him or not. Oh no, no, no, all would become one with Mother Russia one day; it was simply a matter of when.

And so, he would wait patiently for the day when the little bird would once again join the house of the future.

Russia also giggled at the Prussian's statement. He, too, would become one with him one day. The man's dislike of him could only last for so long. Then he would once again see the greatness of being under Russia.

The meeting wrapped up shortly, with the female, the one with long, brown hair, and a flower and frying pan, hurried to exit. He could hear her mumbling across the room, the dark tone of his voice almost mesmerizing him. "When I find that stupid kraut, I'm going to beat him so badly, he won't be able to walk…"

_She was a lovely person,_ Russia thought. A lovely woman who knew how to get what she wanted and what to do if she couldn't. _A beautiful person should definitely become part of the Russian empire._

His smile and purple eyes slowly scanned the room. Oh, how he enjoyed making the others jump when they realized he was looking at them. It made him feel so powerful. He liked feeling powerful.

Across the room, America whispered in a conspiratorial voice to England. "Is it just me, or has Russia been seriously creepy lately? I mean, dude, he even managed to send Prussia running!"

England, though he felt similarly about the Russian's behavior, also doubted it, and waved his concerns off. "Maybe it's just that time of year again. Anyways, he's always been a creepy git. Why should we worry just because it's become a little worse?"

America looked dubious. "I don't know, man, it just feels like he's taken on a whole new level of disturbing, you know what I mean? He's never switched staring targets so often before. He even glanced over at the Nords, and he's always left them alone."

England grimaced. The America had a point, as rare as that was, in and of itself. But he held his own uncertainties above those of his ally. "Maybe he's agitated? I'm sure it will wear off eventually. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have afternoon tea with the queen, and would like some time to prepare." The island nation took his folders and his person out of the room, stalling any further discussions of the irregular behavior for the next time they met.

America could and couldn't believe England's stance on it. Sure, the man was prideful, and once something got stuck in his head, he was loathe to change it. But something in America's gut was telling him that this wasn't just "one of those times." He trusted his gut; it had been right about McDonald's being the best food ever, and that he would still somehow end up in the second war, despite his neutral stance on it. You just don't doubt something that has been right about important stuff like that.

And now, his gut was screaming at him to leave the room. It seems the Russian had turned his roving gaze onto America, and was intent upon chasing the nation out of the room.

As the superpower fled, he grumbled about crazy commies and stupid instincts, though he knew they were anything but.

Russia felt proud. He had every right to. He'd scared his old rival out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I also don't own the song used (Coraline's ending song.)

Warnings: This will be a gory story, and there will be possible character death. The horror/angst should have clued you in.

* * *

><p>Lithuania stopped in the middle of his shopping to gaze upwards. He kept his gaze up as he moved to the side of the road. Who knew where wandering in a busy marketplace would lead to?<p>

The sky is shrouded in white clouds, with the occasional blue peeking out, though only in wisps. The white of the sky strongly overpowered that of its natural color.

Turning his attention from the usual sky wasn't all that hard; he simply needed to close his eyes. What was hard to do was find something else that could capture his attention and believably. He detested going home just yet; he would probably have some guest and he really wasn't in the mood to entertain.

Russia had really been putting strain on the world lately; he was starting to make even the loud and perpetually calm nations fidget and wired. He, unlike some other Europeans, knew that it wasn't that time of year, and was left to other suspicions that may or may not explain the almost dangerous behavior he'd been displaying lately. Everyone had thought he was getting better, and then this happens. Lithuania had to wonder if he hadn't been repressing his creepy urges and that this wasn't some backlash of resisting for so long. That was currently the popular theory among those who knew him better.

Something in the crowd drew the country from his idle dwelling. His ears, ignorant as they were, had picked up something strange. Singing.

The rest of the crowd, he observed, seemed to not notice it, but now that he'd caught wind of it, he could hear it perfectly: a Russian lullaby.

The voice was soft enough that he couldn't tell whether it was a male or female singing it, and Lithuania couldn't understand all of what was being said; he knew only a little Russian.

"_Creaking is the door so gently… Side to side, called your name…Don't open the door… things won't be the same… Searching for its prey…"_

The instant he heard that line, Lithuania ran, regardless of who saw him. He felt his body ram into several people, and it responded with a panted apology while he continued to bolt down the street to his own home.

"_Soon you'll be caught in the spider's web…Run… Make sure the other mother doesn't find you… The witch will eat you, too…"_

The voice sounded no nearer, and yet, no farther than when Lithuania had first heard it. It only spurred on his fear; the ethereal qualities of the voice could never belong to any human. He feared looking back; though his curiosity sometimes got the better of him, he knew he would regret looking behind him the instant he did so.

The clouds overhead were darkening, and Lithuania laughed almost weepingly at the similarity between reality and one of America's horror movies. They were darkening, and he could almost feel the thunderstorm coming.

"_Crawling is the spider's hand, Searching for its prey…soon you'll be caught next, in the spider's web…"_

It wasn't until the many locks on his door were securely in place did he allow the adrenaline to leave his body and the fear and exhaustion from the sudden burst of exercise take over.

His house, despite what he'd thought, was empty, dark, and cold despite the warm spring temperatures outside. The whole feel of the house was so ominous and foreboding that Lithuania scrambled to light the candles.

_Thump._

_Chime!_

_Thump. Thump._

From somewhere in the house, the sound of a clock chiming rang throughout the house. It echoed through the hallow halls of his large manor, and the frightened nation fancied, despite himself, that there were foot steps.

_Thump._

_Thump._

_Thump._

They were just around the corner, down a long hallway. Any moment, he would see the haunt of his home. Lithuania crowded himself up against the wall, in the darkest corner he could find, and as far away from the hall as possible.

_Thump._

_Thump._

A boot toe peeked around the corner.

Lightening flashed from outside.

Lithuania screamed.

The manor fell into darkness once more


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Warning: This will be a gory story, and there will be possible character death. Hint: It's a horror story.

* * *

><p>Estonia rushed to Lithuania's side as soon as he heard his brother' shriek. "Lithuania, are you alright?" As he held the candle over his head, he gazed at his brother in shock.<p>

Lithuania was trembling in a corner- the farthest one from the hall he'd just exited, Estonia noted- and his eyes were bright with tears laden with fear. His arms, clad in a hand kitted sweater, were trembling just above his head. What struck him most was the fearful green eyes that peered from between the gap of his raised arms; Lithuania was looking at him like had when Russia had been in a horribly frightful mood, and had taken his anger out on poor Lithuania.

Estonia backed off a couple of paces and drew the candle farther from the huddled man. What Lithuania needed right now was space. "Calm down, brother, it's just me, Estonia. Breathe, c'mon, deep breaths." As Lithuania made an effort to calm down, Estonia took notice of his posture. It had begun to relax, but it was still stiff and tense; given enough reason, Estonia was sure Lithuania would bolt.

After the shuddering in his breathing had lessened, Lithuania peered at his brother, almost ashamed that he had seen him act like that. "Estonia, what are you doing here?" His voice was caught somewhere between a choke and a sob. He gave up trying to inquire more; he knew his voice wouldn't return until he had fully calmed down. And with the way Estonia was looking at him, like some sort animal that would bolt any instant- not that he wouldn't; he felt extremely jumpy- he wouldn't be back to normal for a time yet.

"I wanted to come visit your library," He explained slowly, "and I remember wanting to read a book that you had. I'm glad I did, though; who knows what you would've done in this state if I hadn't been here."

_Probably hide,_ he thought to himself.

Estonia bit his lip before deciding to satiate his curiosity. "What made you panic like that, Lithuania? It's rare, especially for you."

Lithuania laughed at himself. He also avoided Estonia's eyes. "You would find it silly."

Estonia laughed a bit for effect. "With the way you were just behaving, I'd believe almost anything you'd say." He set down the candle; the angle he'd been holding it at was causing hot wax to drip down onto his hand, and the burning sensation was anything but pleasant. "Try me."

Lithuania nodded, then took a few more deep breaths that steadied his heart a little. "I was out in the market. I don't know what it was, whether it was my imagination or it was real, but the instant I closed my eyes, this Russian lullaby somehow reached me over the crowd. I couldn't tell whether it was a male or female, but I thought it might be Russia. It was just so hard to tell. Something about it made me bolt. It was… a song about catching prey in a spider's web. It was just so ominous sounding. And no matter how hard I ran, it always seemed to sound the same, not too far, but not too close, either. Almost like it was in my head. Then I came home, and was scared out of my right mind by how empty it was and…and…" Lithuania hung his head, and he felt his body begin to tremble finely again.

"I though Russia had come to get me again."

Estonia sighed. Lithuania had every right to be afraid of Russia; he often received the brunt of everything the Russian cast upon them. But fearing him, in broad daylight, when the man was several hundred miles away, at least? That seemed slightly absurd, especially for Lithuania.

"You said your eyes were closed? Could you have been daydreaming?" Lithuania's head snapped up at the gentle accusation. Though his stare couldn't exactly be called a glare, it wasn't any sort of gentle. Estonia shrugged slightly. "Admit it, we've all been on edge around Russia lately; it only makes sense that you would start feeling jittery. You probably imagined it. But if it makes you feel any better, I can stay the night?" It would offer Lithuania some peace of mind and he'd get to read more books.

Lithuania was reluctant to just shrug off his experience- he hadn't had any nightmares since the eighties- but what else could it have been? It had been to surreal, and, like he'd thought earlier, too like a movie to be reality. Maybe his recent workload and strained relationship with Poland, and the sudden reemergence of Russia's violent side was driving him to the point of hallucination.

"You're probably right. " He said at long last. "Thanks for the offer Estonia, but no. I don't want to trouble you. Let's go get your book so you can be on your way."

Estonia gave his brother one last wary look before he allowed himself to be herded into the library, where he promptly forgot everything but the books around him.

Outside, it grinned.

_Mankind will brush off that which it doesn't understand and fears. They will learn soon, just what terror lurks beneath their society._


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

Warning: This will be a gory story, and there will be possible character death. The genre should have been a hint.

* * *

><p>Russia hummed a favorite lullaby of his as he went around the greenhouse that was full every year of the sunflowers he requested and adored. It was devoid of anyone but him and the beautiful plants, also per his request.<p>

He lovingly stroked the petals of a flower big enough to replace the sun in the sky. "Sometimes, you guys are my only friends. People only ever run away from me. I wonder why?" He grinned to himself.

_It is because you scare them away, my dear boy. _

When Russia giggled, it was only slightly edged in hysteria. "I suppose you are right, Father." He continued around the garden, whispering things to his friends, and in turn, his father whispered to him.

Maybe he should've felt worried when he felt the wind rustle his hair- it was indoors, after all- but he felt no sort of trepidation. It was a comfort, having his father by his side. He'd have to introduce his sisters to their dad one day.

Maybe it was because the winds were playing with him, but little bits of the yellow handkerchief had fluttered onto his uniform. He ignored them in favor of his wonderful flower, as it was offering much more comfort than some torn up scarf. They fell to the ground and littered the floor, but he simply squashed them underfoot as he moved from flower to flower. Perhaps the janitors would actually earn their pay today.

It seemed none of his flowers had shed their light, after all.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

Warning: This will be a gory story, and there _will _be character death. The horror and angst should have told you.

_Rrriiiinnngggg!_

_ Rrriiiinnnnnnnnnnngggggggg!_

_ !_

_ Rrriiiiinnn-_

"Alright already! I'm coming!" America yelled at his phone. Curses rolled off his tongue at whoever thought it kind to at- he almost glared at the awesome watch Japan had given him for his last birthday- 4:23 in the morning. He didn't have to be up for another hour and a half!

His hand groped for the phone he left on the coffee table. "What?" He grumbled into the speaker.

"When I was over at your place, did I leave anything?" England's voice was frantic. America woke up a bit more. The draft in his apartment finished the job.

He yawned into his hand. "Uh, no, not that I'm aware of. Why, what're you missing?"

He could hear the other man clear his throat. His voice was still soft. "My knitting and sewing supplies."

America paused; he was awake right? "I'm sorry, Iggy, could you repeat that? I'm not sure I heard you correctly." He stifled another yawn.

England mistook his silence as America silently laughing and mocking him. "You heard me, you bloody wanker! My kit! Is it there?"

"Woah, calm down, Iggy! It's-"

"Don't call me that!"

"-way too early for you to be yelling at me!"

England, across an ocean and several time zones away, checked his watch. "Oh, sorry about that, lad. My kit is simply full of some valuable materials that I've been saving for a while. I finally get the stomach to use them, and they vanish on me." It was especially infuriating that he'd managed to keep track of them for centuries, only to lose them in the span of three days.

"Well, I haven't seen any strings or pins and needles. But if I do, I'll send them your way."

"Thanks lad. Sorry for the wake-up call." _Click!_

America laughed at his parting pun, then shivered again as the draft brought another cold gust of air towards his half-naked body. Last time he slept without a shirt in winter.

He trudged over to the billowing curtain, determined to rid his apartment of its chill. America could almost imagine a person hiding in the curtains, what with the way they were moving. But the thought was so absurd, it was banished the instant it entered his head. As suspected, when he pulled the curtains were empty, and his heart calmed some. He really needed to stop watching horror movies before bed.

He opened the screened sliding doors, then drove them hard across their track. When he'd closed them, the curtains remained settled. He must've rid himself of the cold.

America gazed out over Salt Lake City, UT and sighed. _Maybe I'll head to the prairie. I need a break from all these lights. It hardly feels like night here. Maybe I'll head to Kansas, the stars are supposed to be really pretty this time of year. And the sunflowers, too. Maybe I'll cut some for Russia, and he'll calm down. Maybe he just hasn't seen any yet this year._

Birds all across Kansas stopped their morning serenade for all of a minute.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

Warnings: This will be a gory story, and there will be character death. The genre will play into this chapter. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Russia was once again strolling through his private greenhouse. As the lady in charge had the day off, he'd had to use his own personal key to get in. But that was okay. Everything was okay.

Russia was in a great mood today. His favorite friend was coming to visit him. He would have to leave his sunflowers soon.

_You must leave, malenkaya. That boy will be here soon._

He nodded to the voice. He needed to leave. He also needed to remember to introduce his sisters to their dad. He petted the last flower near the door.

"Bye-bye." He waved to them, but for some reason, the flowers didn't wave back like they normally did. Russia pouted, slightly miffed, but then brightened again. "You guys must be in a bad mood, so when I come to visit again, I'll bring all of you some vodka. Does that sound good?" Though they didn't respond, Russia knew- he was always sure of something he said- that they would come around to the deal when he came back. Right now he needed to go home.

When he stepped outside after making sure the greenhouse was secure, the nation noticed something clinging to his jacket. Russia frowned very deeply; it seems an army of little bugs had decided to bug him. He took the time to flick them all off, flick them all of into the snow where they would rest and die.

Lithuania trembled as he sat in the car. The heater of his renter was broken, so the car was just as chilly as the outside, but at least it protected him from any sort of wind chill. It had been the only thing available other than motorbikes. Really, though, who rode a motorcycle in the dead of a Russian winter?

He'd come to Russia's house to calm his fears. Ever since that night with Estonia, sleep had been a hard thing to come by. He hoped a visit to the Russian nation would alleviate his dreads, and remove one thing from his list of growing stresses.

Russia was walking down the path opposite his car; Lithuania assumed he'd been through the nearby town. The Baltic nation stepped out of the car just as the Russian reached his walkway; maybe they could get out of the cold quicker.

"Lithuania! You're here!" Russia's eyes were alight with such childish joy that he found him forgetting his recent behaviors.

Russia was so excited, but something about him caught his guest's eyes. Since when had Russia worn red?

Green eyes widened.

"Russia, are you okay?"

Purple eyes blinked.

"Of course I'm okay, Privet…" What could've possibly alarmed his friend? It wasn't him, right?

Lithuania, despite his previous anxieties, grabbed both of the northern nation's hands. "Your fingers have been cut to ribbons! Think, there isn't some sort of conflict going on right now, right? What did this to you?"

Russia simply stared in silent awe at the blood that stained his gloved hands.

The Baltic gave the cold hands a gentle shake. "Russia?"

He only got a shake of a pale head in response. He hadn't met any angry cats along the way, right? "Shall we go in, then?"

Unlike Lithuania's hopes, the inside of Russia's mansion was cold and- here Lithuania shuddered, for it was far too similar to a recent experience of his- dark and empty. And so very, very empty.

"You know the way to the sitting room, da? I'm going to go clean up the hands." Without another word, the nation disappeared up a flight of stairs.

Lithuania's hand groped along the wall in search of a light switch. Even though he had every square inch of this house memorized, it was nearly impossible to navigate in the dark.

It turns out he found his designated room before he found the light switch. Why hadn't he just gone to the right?

Maybe Russia had gone hunting recently- though it was hard to imagine, even with Russia's predator-like personality- because something in the room had a stench strong enough to send Lithuania reeling. He wondered how he hadn't noticed the smell from the foyer, just one room over.

His hand felt along the wall, this time for a different light switch. Success. The Baltic swept the room with his eyes instead of a broom, searching for the source of the horrendous odor. They found it, and stopped, deader than any man six-feet under. The rest of his body froze with them.

What _was_ that?

He felt rather than heard the other's approach. He wanted to ask Russia something, anything, about that… he couldn't even venture to call that a thing. Chudovischnost',*** That's what he would call it. Only a Russian word could describe this Russian monstrosity.

The words to mention the chudovischnost' refused to come to his lips, so Lithuania choked out one of the other questions floating around his mind. As His green eyes peered into Russia's lavender ones, he feared he already knew the answer. "Aren't you cold?"

The Russian grinned down at his comrade, his childish grin marred by the blood he couldn't wash his hands of. "Not at all, Privet. Why do you ask?"

***This is my own English translation of a Russian word after the internet beyond ticked me off. Sorry for any mistakes I may have made. (Чудовищность)


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Warnings: This will be a gory story, and there will be death.

The forests, a mix of evergreens and trees that lose their leaves in the fall, made up the forests of Slovakia. Animals on the ground called to one another, and life went on as normal.

Above it all, a swarm of birds hunted in a group. Large ones and small ones, all darted in and out of the mismatched trees. Bugs, fruits, and roots were swallowed down their awaiting throats.

One white-tail dashed, followed by another. Soon, the entirety of the forest was fleeing west, other than the forest itself. The stragglers, though they didn't believe in any sort of god, prayed for a quick end.

Their wishes were, of course, denied.

Please, review. I would like some feedback.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

Warning: This will be a gory story. There will be character death. It's horror. It's angst.

Reminder: Read this story very carefully.

Lithuania jumped as a hand clapped down on his shoulder. It reminded him of something he'd really rather forget.

"Heya, Toris! How've you been? You looked kinda tense during Iggy's spiel." America was aware that he'd been far worse after the meeting, when Russia had been lurking around. The commie giant had finally left; an urgent call from his boss had called him home. Most everyone hoped he would stay gone for the duration of the meeting, but only time could tell.

"Yes, and I apologize for that. I've simply had a lot on my mind lately."

"Yeah, I've heard things have kind of gone downhill with Poland lately." Poland, when he heard his name, poked his head out of his conversation. When he caught the pair looking at him, he pouted- albeit cutely- and reengaged himself into his conversation with Lichtenstein, with Switzerland observing nearby. The Baltic sighed.

America shot him a look of sympathy. "Don't worry about it so much. Things will get better. Just look at me and England!"

A grumpy voice froze whatever was going to come out of America's mouth next. "That's 'England and I,' git. I'm sure I taught you better than that."

"See, we even help each other all the time!" England looked ready to debate that point, but he instead went to help Moldova, who was being cornered by France. "Leave her alone, frog!"

Lithuania jumped.

Prussia wandered into the room to see England and France duking it out. Totally unawesome, but it provided good entertainment. He went to stand beside them, maybe some of his awesome encouragement could them fiery enough to start tearing each other's faces off. Or eating them; either one worked for Prussia. France would probably like that, though, so maybe he shouldn't.

Ever since his last little episode with Gilbird- in which he spent hours trying to catch the damned bird at the cost of his now sliced fingers- he had taken to tucking to tucking the little bird into his uniform's chest pocket. The little guy was normally perfectly content in staying there, especially in the presence of the other nations.

Now, however, the he took flight from his warm, blue cocoon. His short wings flapped hard as he tried to keep himself airborne, and his panted chirps quickly drew the attention of all in the room. Several of the cute-lovers cooed at the adorable display; others observed with wariness and trepidation, as the little yellow bird could be a terror when in the right mood.

It didn't take long for them to identify where the chick was going; the room wasn't _that_ big.

The yellow puffball settled in front of Lithuania, who stared at it as though he wasn't quite sure of what it was. Then his eyes flashed with understanding.

Lithuania shrieked, and was quick to scramble as far away from the chick as he could.

The bird, obviously confused about why the normally mellow nation was behaving this way, took off after the man with a little chirp. Lithuania began fleeing backwards even faster; his eyes were wide with fear and trained Gilbird.

"No, please! Go away!" The bird took no heed.

It wasn't long before the Baltic was backed against a wall and nowhere further to run. The little bird was quickly gaining back the distance he made, and his green eyes searched for an escape route.

The bird, as dense as his owner, landed on top of his head. Lithuania, as curled into himself as he was, didn't even notice the thing land on him.

It had taken everyone else in the room to fully interpret what exactly they were seeing: a nation had just beat a hasty retreat- on his behind, no less- to escape a small bird that, as far as they knew, had done nothing to him.

Prussia quickly went to retrieve his runaway bird. "Sorry 'bout that. Don't know what's gotten into him lately." His tone said he was anything but sorry, and that he didn't blame this event entirely on his precious pet. "You okay?"

Lithuania only trembled while his shoulders heaved with heavy sobs. Estonia was quick to join his side. "I'm sorry, Prussia. I don't know what's gotten into _Lithuania_ lately, but he's been having so many episodes recently, I honestly don't know when they'll be coming. I think it's because of you-know-who." The room nodded in sympathy.

Poland slowly, almost regrettably, approached the crying nation. "Hey, Liet, like, what's the matter? You're a total mess."

The trembling Baltic- no, not Latvia!- took a few breaths to try and calm himself down. "Sorry." Was all he could manage to say. And so he took to it like a mantra. It worked at calming him down so the others let him run with it for a little while.

Finally, "It's just, I went to Russia's house-"

"Russia's?" That seemed to be all he needed. Estonia, to say the least, seemed surprised. "I thought I told you that avoiding him would be better?"

Lithuania looked a little sheepish, but continued on. "Well, yes, but I felt it would make me feel better quicker if I handled the problem head on."

Estonia once again cut off his brother. "So you went to Russia's house, got the crap scared out of you, and are jumpy now at the littlest things? I'm placing you under house arrest, three weeks minimum. You need to get this nonsense out of your head, and some bed-rest should accomplish that, no problem." The northern most Baltic, in a rare show of authority, dragged his brother to his feet, and pulled the protesting nation right out the door, their third brother trailing behind them silently.

Austria watched them go, then addressed the shocked world.

"Still, that doesn't explain why he was that terrified of the bird."

"It's 'cause Gilbird's that awesome!"

"Ugh…"


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Hetalia.

Warning: This will be a gory story, and there will be character death.

"Breaking news. Police have found Anya Chudovisch, a Russian woman who has been missing since her from her home two weeks ago. She was sighted going into her home in Moscow, Russia the evening before, but neighbors became worried when she failed to leave the house in forty-eight hours after Saturday evening at seven o'clock Moscow time.

"Her body was found in a popular meadow nearby, under approximately six feet of snow. Investigations of the cause of death are currently ongoing, as there appear to be numerous possibilities that resulted in Chudovisch's death. All police advise that people in the area venture with exceptional caution, as the perpetrator is still at large. Next-"

France clicked off TV as most of the world surged into the room. Amerique, having caught the tail end of it, sprinted over to him, probably intent on discussing the 'breaking news.'

Of course, there was something false in the young nation's gait that France couldn't help but notice. "Is that the murder in Russia? The one where police say her arms were ripped off her body? 'Cause if that's true… Aww man, that's so gruesome!" Despite his exclamation- and his obsession with horror movies- America found the whole thing disgusting. He also found it ironic that it had happened in Russia; perhaps it was only a coincidence?

France teared up- falsely of course. "It is such a pity, a beautiful, young woman had to die so tragically. It's worthy of one of mon Angleterre's dramas."

The island nation looked affronted, and immediately pounced on the accusation. After he had thoroughly throttled France, England turned to America. "I though that bit about her arms being torn off was only speculation by those working outside of the case?" America simply shrugged.

Japan also joined their small posse. "Stirr, I find it strange that this is happening to Russia-san. Perhaps his recent behavior is because of this incident?"

"Who can say?"

Russia, behind a nearby door, smiled to himself.

Well, he had warned him.

Estonia trudged in shortly after most everyone had settled down.

"Estonia, care to explain why you were almost tardy?" Germany, peeved more than usual at the Italian who was currently shivering in his seat, vented some of his irritation on the Baltic. Surely Italy would be used to death by this point? He's older than Germany, for Pete's sake!

The bookish nation flinched. "Uh… well, Lithuania has been going on and on about the news this morning, and I had a hard time getting out the door this morning." A subtle glance at Russia confirmed some suspicions. "I'm sorry, please continue with the meeting."

Germany accepted the apology, and proceeded, ignoring the number of blank stares that were trained on him. Normally at least a few countries checked out during these briefings, but most of world was missing, mentally. Only those truly scared out of their mind were still present, most of which looked ready to not only check out, but _pass_ out, at the intimidating aura Russia seemed to exude.

The nation seemed to become more and more irritated and finally rapped a knuckle on the table, interrupting Germany's speech and waking nearly everyone up. "We should really pay attention to what comrade Germany is saying, da?"

Germany found he much preferred the innumerable blank stares to a room full of focusing countries. Well, at least they were paying attention, what he had to say was rather important. He just wished they'd do it more often, and willingly.

Russia smiled brightly at him. Germany sighed as Italy began to tremble more. If only everyone else paid this much attention without Russia's overbearing help.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Hetalia.

Warning: This will be a gory story, and there will be character death. This chapter also contains mentions of alcoholism.

The country of love winced as his cuts were stung by the cold. Why, oh why, did England have to act like a cat when he was mad? They had nails, not claws! They weren't made for scratching his beautiful face!

And another thing, why did Russia have to live in such a cold part of his country? He had land that was of the same climate as his lovely France. The Islamic people weren't so bad, so long as you don't offend them.

France rang the door bell once more. Even with large houses, it shouldn't take Russia half an hour to answer the door! It was simply rude, especially in this weather.

After yet another half-hour of waiting, France decided he was going to go ahead and break in. He used to be a pirate; he could do it. And besides if Russia was injured, surely he'd be unable to answer the door; it would be up to big brother to help him.

The lock was easy to jimmy open; France suspected that the creepy man needed to worry about criminals breaking in.

The inside of Russia's house wasn't any warmer than the outside; France would even venture to say that it was colder than the sub-zero temperatures outside, but it very well could've been his imagination. Cold was cold, after all.

His foot nudged something, hard, and managed to send it rolling. With a clink, it seemed to stop. As France groped around for a light switch, his feet encountered several other objects of the same make. When the lights were finally found and powered, France found the little things to be empty glass bottles.

Picking one up, he read the label: "_Myrov's Classical Vodka, taking you back to the old days."_

_ I knew Russia was addicted to these horrible beverages, but this is downright alcoholic. Only England's obsessions match this. And Angleterre isn't as prone to drinking as this._

France knew he was weak; no denying that. He acknowledged that he was a coward. France was sure that he was terrified of the nation of Russia. So when he saw the man – or someone who he thought was Russia – coming towards the house, he bolted out the back door.


End file.
